Possession
by Fantome
Summary: Harry is possessed by Voldemort, gaining the personality of Tom Riddle, who finds endless entertainment within the walls of Hogwarts. Dark Harry. Sort of TRGW.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer and Author's Notes: I do not own Harry Potter, and I wouldn't want children to read this. I am making no profit from this story. Rated R for violence, be warned now. What else would you expect from Voldemort? This story is finished, with four chapters. I'm just releasing them on different days after editing, one each day. The first chapter is very tame, as it's the Prologue. 

Harry is possessed by Voldemort, gaining the personality of Tom Riddle, who finds endless entertainment within the walls of Hogwarts. Dark Harry. Sort of TR/GW. 6th Year. R, very violent (not explicit) in parts. Angst/Horror. 

POSSESSION

**Chapter One, Prologue**

**_End of Summer_**

Harry's mind floated freely, as exhilarating as broomstick flight. With a little extra concentration, Harry could just barely smell the perfumed fields of wildflowers below the clouds. He sailed toward the firey orange and rose sunset, following an eagle to the horizon. Sunshine faded to dusk and he invisibly set down near an old crumbling brick house. Testing his bodiless senses, he clambered up the stairs onto the collapsing porch, not dangerous for one not really there. As he stepped through the door, he froze in fear. A woman was screaming in horrible pain as a man with a high-pitched laugh taunted her. He was torn between the desire to investigate or run when he felt a familiar evil sickness spread over him. He was now certain it was Voldemort in the other room. And as he felt the pain overtake him, he knew Voldemort recognized his presence as well. 

Harry shot out of his bed at Black House, covered in sweat, forehead throbbing so badly he could hardly see. "He found me. He knew I was there. Leave me alone!" He ran to the bathroom and tried to force down his panic and nausea, raggedly breathing into the sink. Harry washed his face sloppily, spilling water on the floor. Soon he was irritatedly swearing at himself for his anxious response. _Do you believe all of your stupid dreams?_ A small voice reminded him he'd been learning Astral Projection, that he could have really been there. _No, that's ridiculous, and I don't give a damn what Voldemort is doing. Someone else can deal with it for once. I'm so sick of this._ The pain receded as his anger grew, and his vision focused. Looking up, he jumped back from the mirror and smashed his hand against the wall, not recognizing himself. His eyes were shadowed, his face was lined. He slowly looked again, leaning so closely that he bumped his head against the glass. His reflection's darkened eyes were filled with rage, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a cruel grin. 

* * * * * * * 

**_Beginning of Summer_**

The summer had been dragging on at Privet Drive, and Harry hadn't even looked at his OWL scores. He just didn't care, and looking at them wouldn't improve them. Fortunately, the Dursleys were leaving him alone after Moody's threats, so Harry barely had to leave his room. They gave him more food than usual, but he gave much of the extra to Hedwig. It all tasted sawdusty and was hard to swallow, even the treats the Weasleys occasionally sent him. Finally, after three weeks, Remus Lupin had showed up unannounced at the door to take him to London. 

Harry's hopes had risen, just a little, at the thought of seeing his friends again, so it was quite a surprise to him to enter with Lupin into an empty house at Grimmauld Place. "Where is everyone?" he asked a bit too quickly and caught a fleeting hurt expression in Remus's eyes. 

"The Order can't meet here anymore because of Kreacher. They're setting up a diversion by meeting elsewhere to keep you safe. The Weasley family is at home, and they plan to visit later. I thought you might like some time alone." _With me,_ was implied. 

Harry didn't acknowledge his companion's feelings. "I think I've had enough time being alone. Maybe I shouldn't have come here. I... Sirius hated this place." His voice cracked a little. "I hate it too." Harry clenched his fists, fingernails digging a little into his hands, and forced down his emotions. _Sirius is DEAD. Forget him._

"Harry, Sirius wanted you to have the Black House. Kreacher is gone, and much of what Sirius hated is gone as well. This is your home now, and I am its custodian until you come of age. So we'll be seeing a lot of each other." Remus's resolve strengthened. "There's something important we need to start this week. The Order has decided you need to protect yourself, and you need extra defensive lessons." 

"Like Occlumency?" he groaned. "I've had enough of that. I'm a failure, so don't waste your time." 

"I think you'll like this better. You're going to learn to Apparate." 

Harry looked up, excited despite himself. With Apparation, no one could tell him where to go anymore. 

* * * * * * * 

So that was how he began to learn Astral Projection, mental traveling while leaving his body behind, the first step in Apparating. A wizard must see his destination and fully concentrate on it before arriving to avoid being splinched. Astral Projection seemed useful for other things too, Harry decided, as he discovered he had an exceptional aptitude for it. Before long, he could Apparate short distances throughout the house as the Weasley twins had, but longer distance skills would take some time. 

The summer went by as normal once the Weasleys arrived, with the exception of Mrs. Weasley's constant bragging (and nagging to the other children) about Hermione's high OWL scores. The only bad times were when Harry had a few angry rows with Remus Lupin, who was too nosy about Harry's feelings regarding the loss of his godfather. Harry more than once bitterly asserted that Remus "didn't seem too broken up by it" himself, enjoying the pain that cracked through the other's calm, collected facade a little too much. 


	2. Whispers and Withdrawal

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I wouldn't want children to read this. I am making no profit from this story. Rated R for non-explicit violence, be warned now. What else would you expect from Voldemort? This chapter is not very violent. 

**Chapter Two: Whispers and Withdrawal**

**_September and beyond_**

_I have no idea why I'm keeping a journal. It seems like a stupid idea. Hermione says that it helps clear out your mind like a Pensieve, so I can focus on what's important, and it would be good for me. Anyway, I put some spells on this so it looks blank and nobody can see inside it like a Pensieve. I'll think of some more ways to hide it. I don't know what I'm going to write about though. Hermione's so bossy. Ron isn't much better. He thinks he's so great because he's still on the Quidditch team, and I haven't got time to play this year. I guess I don't miss it a lot because I didn't get to play often during the past couple of years anyway, but it's much more fun than being tutored by Professor McGonagall! I have to bring my grades up a little to pass my NEWTS for Auror training. It's all a waste of time. Snape will flunk me anyway. I really hate him. I'd like to see him--_ Harry crossed his last sentence out. 

_I'm tired of school. Sometimes I think I should just fly away like Fred and George did last year. Someone would just find me though. I wish everybody would leave me alone. I try to keep to myself, but they always bother me. They treat me like I'm sick or stupid or something. Last year, I wished Professor Dumbledore would talk to me more, but now I'm growing quite tired of his scrutiny and condescension. He criticizes everything I do and tells me it's dangerous to get angry. What a fool. He's keeping an annoyingly close watch on me, so I need to take action about that. _

Well, I'm supposed to go out to Hogsmeade this afternoon with Professor Lupin to practice Apparating again. He says we can get a Butterbeer, but I don't really like them anymore. Too sweet. I'd better go, I'm going to be late. 

Harry closed the small book, locking and Obscuring it with his wand. Only he could find it now. It would not do to have others meddling with it. He decided to write in it again: he did feel a little better after writing down his thoughts, mentally stronger and sharper. 

* * * * * * * 

Harry spent more and more time in his dormitory studying and writing in his journal, and within a few weeks, Professor McGonagall declared that he no longer needed extra tutoring. He mused that she was so proud that one would think she'd done all the work herself. Class was getting easier, rather than harder, however, as last week he'd even caught a mistake that Snape had made in the potions measurements he'd written on the board. Snape took points away for his impertinence, but Harry saw him quickly change the amount from 1/6 to 1/8 cup of absinthe. 

Harry enjoyed his privacy, but it was frequently disturbed. One afternoon, his pleasant reverie over an Astrology book was rudely interrupted by Ron throwing back his bed curtains in typical Weasley tact. "Come out of there. You need to eat. Even Hermione says so." 

Harry adjusted his glasses as he gazed up at his friend. "I'm perfectly capable of determining if I'm hungry. And why should I care what Hermione thinks?" 

Ron frowned at him, looking a little dense. "I figured you've been doing so much studying to impress her, so she won't nag. Even she says you're going overboard. What's wrong with you?" 

"I'm planning for my future. Surely you can see the benefit of that." 

"Is this about Sirius? Are you still upset? You can talk to us, you know." Ron shifted his weight between his feet and bit his lip. 

"You figured it out, excellent. Do you plan to hold my hand while I cry?" Harry shook his head to clear it, stopping himself. _What was that all about?_ "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. I'm coming. I think I do need some food." 

Ron escorted him to the dining hall but barely said a word to him during the whole meal. Harry resolved to sit with him more regularly, if only to avoid the daily annoyance of being asked to eat. 

* * * * * * * * 

_ Today I have to write with my left hand because I smashed my right one up in a fight with that git Malfoy. It's a lot easier to write than I thought. Anyway, Snape gave me a detention again, and I was really angry. Stupid Malfoy asked me if I looked upset because I'd "killed someone" again. His Dad's in Azkaban, but he still found out what happened with Sirius last year. He keeps talking about it. I said, "Not as many as your father has," and punched him in the face a few times. Then I Obliviated him and made him think the Creevys did it. He's really embarrassed now, and it's really funny. _

I Glamoured my hand so it doesn't look bruised, but it still hurts. Nobody will ask about it though. I'll have to learn some healing charms soon. Maybe I could just numb it, and it wouldn't hurt ever again. I've been having bad headaches, so maybe I could numb my stupid scar too. 

The real reason I'm writing is that that ignorant fool Dumbledore was harassing me about learning Occlumency again. I told him that Legilimency was more practical, and that I could learn it on my own. He evaluated me with his eyes and told me that I must have learned more than he thought this summer, so he won't ask again. Finally, he'll stop being so invasive since he can't get what he wants. Maybe I'll get some more freedom. 

* * * * * * * 

Harry's headaches had become frequent, which drove him to collect piles of medical books from the library. He found he had developed a knack for healing spells and potions, which was fortunate because sometimes his migraines were so bad he couldn't even remember how he spent his day. The only times he felt truly rested and calm were when he was alone or asleep. Gradually, they faded until he felt normal again. 

* * * * * * * 

_Everyone has gone to Hogsmeade today. It's really boring around here. I was wandering around earlier, and I decided to pay a visit to Myrtle in the first floor bathroom. She was moaning and whinging about how I never come around, _

...so I told the stupid Mudblood to shut up. She's even more annoying now than when she was alive. She went off into the toilet in a huff. How disgusting. I went down to the Chamber to find my old belongings, but they were gone. However, I discovered something much more important there, that I have a completely new set of memories that are missing. Ginny Weasley had opened my diary four years ago. I must extract them from her immediately. She had released the Basilisk, and then Harry Potter had killed it. Its body was gone. Dumbledore must have ransacked my Chamber. I really have no patience for his meddling. It seems he also discovered the crypt behind Slytherin's statue. My books, research, artifacts, crystals, everything was removed. Not that my infantile experiments really matter anymore. 

I found Salazar's silver snake pendant under some rocks, not far from where I found it originally. It had been waiting for me. I think I'll wear it again. Oh, and I really need a new basilisk. Harry will make himself useful investigating that. 

On the way back, I found a Boggart in a broom closet. I think I'll put it in the Gryffindor common room. I could use some entertainment while I'm waiting. 

* * * * * * * 

A splitting scream rent the air early the next morning. "Oh, my God, HARRY! NO!" wafted Hermione's voice up the stairs to where Harry lay thinking on his bed. _She must have opened the cloakroom._ As Ron pounded down the stairs, Harry wondered why he wasn't concerned, instead searching for his slippers. Then she sobbed, "Oh, Ron, it's horrible! I can't go in there! Harry--" 

"Harry's upstairs." Bitterly he added, "He's getting dressed instead of helping you. Now what's going on?" A moment later, he yelled, "DAD! Don't move! I'll kill it! I don't have my-- We have to help him!" 

_There they are._ Now that his feet were clad, Harry descended the stairs to see Ron cowering and Hermione covering her face. 

"I can't go in there! I'm sorry!" 

Harry silently stepped behind Hermione and put his hand on her shoulder. "Would you mind explaining what's so horrible about me?" 

She spun around, fear creasing her tear-stained face before running out the common room door, probably to the library. Harry walked past her to Ron. Mr. Weasley was lying on the floor covered in blood. A huge black and silver snake was wrapped tightly around his neck, scales shining in contrast with his bluish red face. Its long fangs were poised to strike again. 

"Harry, talk to it!" Ron grabbed his shirt. Harry extricated himself and started to laugh. He really didn't know why he started at first, but then he couldn't stop himself. The whole situation was so absurdly funny, and for Ron to ask him for help... well, that was the best part of all. 

Ron froze. Harry's face was pale, his eyes red and ringed, his hair disheveled, so that he looked like a madman. And he was throwing back his head and laughing like one too. 

"Can't you even tell what's real? You know your father isn't here, and as to the snake, constrictors aren't poisonous also. It's obviously a Boggart. I'm pleased to see that your fears have become more mature than merely arachnids, however." 

"Don't-- don't laugh at me! What's wrong with you?" Weasley looked poised to punch his one-time friend, but he was so shocked he couldn't get his feet to move. 

"It's a Boggart. I had to laugh. You wanted me to get rid of it, didn't you? See it's gone." 

Ron stared at him and felt his sincerity, and his anger drained away. He was suddenly getting tired... "Yeah. It's gone. Thanks." He shook his head a little and headed up the stairs. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but I should get some more sleep." 

Ginny Weasley rushed into the room. "Did you see Hermione, Harry? Something's wrong with her. She was crying, and-" 

"Ah, Ginny, it's a shame you were late. I've been waiting for you." Voldemort searched her eyes. _Ah, there. The missing pieces... Very useful._ Harry's mouth imitated Tom's most charming smile. "I've missed you, you know." 

"Harry?" Her eyes flickered when she approached him. He brushed her messy red hair with the back of his hand. "Oh, I've missed you too," she realized slowly. 


	3. Wounds and Manipulation

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I wouldn't want children to read this. I am making no profit from this story. Rated R for non-explicit violence, be warned now. What else would you expect from Voldemort? This chapter becomes violent. 

**Chapter Three: Wounds and Manipulation**

_Something funny happened today. There was a Boggart in the cloakroom downstairs, and somehow I already knew it was in there. I wasn't very worried about it either. I had the feeling I wrote about it before, but I looked back at the journal entries, and all that's in here is stuff about school and Quidditch games. I didn't remember going to Quidditch games, but--oh, yeah, Ron's a really good Keeper this year. Gryffindor won both matches. I think we'll get the Cup!_

_This will not do,_ Voldemort decided. It was time for a more direct approach. _'Listen to me, Harry Potter.'_

_'Will you tell me what's going on?'_ But it was a weak response. He didn't have much will left to fight, and it was so much easier to just relax, to not have to think about things. 

_'I'll take care of everything. You want power, don't you? You want people to fear you, to let you do anything you want.'_

_'No...'_

_'You can't lie to me. I'm in you. You need me. I could... always use Ginny instead.'_

Harry's heart beat faster, making him light headed. No, he wouldn't abandon him... would he? Panic gripped him. He didn't want to be left alone. 

_'You would go back to how you were before I came to you: powerless, weak, failing your classes, Dumbledore making all your decisions for you. You like making your own decisions, don't you? You like power.'_

_'Yes. Please, don't go.'_ He tried not to sound too desperate but failed. 

_'Perhaps you need a reminder.'_

Sorrow flooded though Harry's mind, so intense he couldn't breathe. His stomach knotted, and he curled up on his bed. He heard his mother screaming, saw Cedric falling, and worst of all, he remembered Sirius and the Veil. Sirius was dead, and it was all his fault. He never wanted to think of him again. Love was a weakness that killed everyone Harry bestowed it upon. He cried out and pulled on his own hair, the pain distracting him from the torrential feelings inside. _'Stop! Stop this! I'll do anything!'_

_'You don't want to feel this way?'_

_'No! Never! Please!'_

_'Very good. I do need to see some proof of your loyalty, however. You can't go unpunished.'_ Harry found himself rising and searching for something in his trunk. Into his hand came the penknife that Sirius had given him. Funny, he had thought it was broken, but the blade was glistening and new when he opened it. He sat upon his bed again, and closed the dark red curtains around it. _'Don't make a sound.'_

He held the knife in his left hand, which strangely didn't feel awkward at all. He caught his own reflection in the metal for a moment. He didn't look right; the eyes were reddish, but he looked familiar. No, that wasn't important. What was important was to show he was committed to bettering himself. His hand moved steadily and quickly, slicing a long streak into his upper arm. The warm blood dripped down onto his cloak and blanket. Five more swift movements followed. His arm looked like a grim tally until all the blood commingled into a single river. It didn't hurt much; he didn't feel much pain lately. As soon as he realized that, it began to sear like fire. He wanted to grab it with his other hand, but it gripped the knife tighter and wouldn't move. His eyes blurred with tears and something else. He noticed a dark spot on his glasses, and tipping his head, he saw something red drip from his forehead, trail down his nose and onto the stained, wet area of his lap. _'Every time you betray me earns you another mark. Do you enjoy this? Do you think I want to hurt you? Now, one last test. It's your turn.'_

He gritted his teeth and held his breath. The pain began to recede, to be combined with a pulsing euphoria. _'It's time.'_ He angled the tip of the knife, precisely and lovingly sculpting into his skin a design. First the skull, then the snake's head protruding from it. It was rather pretty, shining there in blood. He wiped the extra blood away with the back of his hand to admire it longer. His doubts ebbed with the crimson flow. He stared at it, unfocused, as if daydreaming at the stars at night, until a voice whispered, _'That's enough. We don't want you to bleed to death, just yet.'_ He laid his cool hand upon each cut for a moment. The blood vanished as the wounds healed, replaced by shiny pink scars. 

Harry lay down to rest, skin tingling and mind blissfully free and unconcerned. 

* * * * * * * 

_No one would leave me alone today, but I took care of it. First, Colin Creevy and his little brother were whinging at me to go to Quidditch practice even though I told them I was busy. I "accidentally" broke his camera. The little Mudbloods ran off bawling. _

Then Neville Longbottom came up to me, professing his unending sorrow for the loss of "my godfather." He reminded me that he knew what it was like to lose family, and I explained to him that it was better that mine were dead, rather than weak and un_committed_ to their cause." He didn't exactly run off bawling because he's too incompetent, but I think he'll stay away now. 

I finally made my way to Hagrid's shack, which was my original goal for the day. He'd sent a heartfelt note about how much he missed Harry and how he'd lost his father too. I fail to see why father figures are so overrated. Mine was never useful until fifty years after I killed him. I figured the visit would be good for a laugh. I hadn't seen Rubeus for a very long time. 

He offered me passable tea and revolting food. He told me how he still missed his dad, and I told him it was good that his father didn't know Aragog got him expelled. "Did I tell you he tried to eat me and Ron... and Fang?" He gave me a hard look and changed the subject. He told me he missed me in class and wished I hadn't had to drop it to focus on my NEWTS. He wanted to show me some disgusting new creature he'd acquired, but I had other plans. We walked to the chicken pen, and I asked him how old his roosters were. He gave me another odd look and told me I knew they'd all been killed my second year. "Well, I didn't know if you got young ones or old ones to replace them." It seems that none of them are seven years old, and as it's the wrong time of year as well, I'll have to wait to hatch another Basilisk. I figured even with as dense as Hagrid is, asking him outright for a rooster egg would be very suspicious. By next summer, it won't matter anyway. 

I have no doubt who orchestrated this sudden outpouring of emotion toward me. The situation needs to be remedied, but other priorities must come first. 

* * * * * * * 

Ginny Weasley was very tired. She'd stayed up late studying for Potions and History of Magic two nights in a row. She sank into bed after midnight, pretty red hair spread on her pillow, framing her creamy freckled skin, no worry furrowing her smooth brow. In just the right lighting, she would look like a peaceful angel. It would be a shame to disturb her right now. There was a better opportunity first. 

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, slept fitfully, with her frizzy brown hair tangled in knots. Her face was tense and her fingernails cut into the palms of her clenched fists. She was already having another nightmare about how Harry abandoned the world to the evil rule of Lord Voldemort. 

It was easy enough to slip in another scene. Hermione was running home, out of breath and chest aching. Above the modest suburban two-story home was an omen, the sparkling emerald constellation of the Dark Mark. She beat at the front entrance, which wouldn't open, and ran around to the back, where the door lie broken on the ground. She screamed through the house, checking every room, until she came to the upstairs bedroom, where her Muggle dentist parents lay dead in bed. Their faces were frozen in horror, and a greenish haze still lay over them. She turned to see the tall, regal, pale figure of Voldemort, eyes glowing in fury, hands ready to strike her. "The weak shall perish!" she heard as she fainted. 

Ginny must have heard her fellow Gryffindor's moans from the dormitory next door because she was lying on her side in a ball when Voldemort returned, appearing as his younger self, and silently sat on her bed. He touched her face and curled a lock of tangerine hair around his long finger. She stirred and blinked at his seemingly sixteen-year-old face. "Tom? How did you get here?" She sat up and remembered that she should fear him. 

Casually, Tom's voice answered, "I'm not really here, Ginny. And don't bother to call for help. No one can hear you. You're asleep." 

"But you're V-Vol..." 

"No, I'm Tom." He covered her lips with his fingers for a moment. "You remember me. You said you missed me." 

Looking into his dark eyes, she couldn't help but relax. 

"You know I've never lied to you. Everyone else does, don't they? Even Dumbledore. He lies to Harry. You can't trust him." 

She nodded slowly. "Last year Professor Dumbledore didn't tell Harry the truth, and then Sirius Black died. He was the only family Harry had left." 

"Yes, you can't trust him. Everyone lies to you but me. Percy doesn't love you. He betrayed your family. Fred and George left you alone last year with that awful Umbridge. Ron doesn't have time for you, unless you're playing Quidditch. Your parents... well, they think the Order is more important than you, don't they? I was always with you. I always have time for you." 

She twisted uncomfortably, resisting. "I don't know. They're busy, but--" 

"Shh..." he petted her hair. "It will seem so much clearer in the morning. Just sleep." Her forehead smoothed, and her face became blank as she lay back down. 

In the sixth year Gryffindor boys' dormitory, Voldemort settled Harry's body down under his sheets and left for the night. All in all, it had been a productive evening. 

* * * * * * * 

Harry got up late in the morning, extra alert and well rested. He felt he could face anything today. In the common room, he paused to overhear Ginny and Hermione talking about their dreams. Girls had such puerile concerns. Hermione was whispering something about Voldemort to Ginny, who replied that she thought she'd dreamed about Tom. Harry came up to them. "Voldemort isn't here. I'd know if he was." 

Hermione shifted on the couch uncomfortably. "You shouldn't listen to private conversations. If you must know, I didn't think You-Know-Who was here. I just had a nightmare about my parents." 

Before he could stop himself, he whispered so only she could hear, "They don't know it's dangerous to have a Mudblood child? Perhaps you should have seen fit to educate them about the dangers of the wizarding world. You have no difficulty lecturing everyone else." 

She tossed her hair angrily and left the room. 

"I'll see you again soon, Ginny." Harry charmingly smiled before chasing after Hermione. _'Reckless, reckless boy, now she needs to be Obliviated before she reaches a professor. Damn, she got away.'_ The plans would be adjusted accordingly, and Harry would have to mark himself again. 

Ginny frowned at the portrait hole after he left for a long while. "It can't be..." 

* * * * * * * 

Ginny couldn't stop the nightmares that came every night. They always started the same. She was very afraid. She was covered in blood and feathers and didn't know what happened. Strange hissing came from her mouth, and she didn't know why. People were being Petrified, and she didn't know who to trust. She was so afraid someone would see her guilt and she'd go to Azkaban forever and ever... Then one night it changed. 

'Azkaban? What would a little girl know about Azkaban? Perhaps I should show you.' Tom's normally soothing voice grated coldly on her nerves. Something terrible was about to happen. She wanted to run, but her feet wouldn't move. She wanted to scream, but her mouth wouldn't open. Around her, the familiar walls of Hogwarts faded away to be replaced with wet, cracked stone and iron bars. 

First she noticed a dripping sound as her hearing faded in, and then crying and violent shrieking. Some men were calling for their wives. Others were screaming that they'd kill whoever put them there. A familiar woman was praying to Lord Voldemort for rescue. The dismalness sank into her soul, enveloping her lungs, making it hard to breathe. 

Ginny felt clammy and shaky and her vision wavered. She crawled to the back of the cell and shivered forcefully. It seemed like it went on forever. She was all alone, she'd never get out, all alone, no one to help her, never get out, never, never... 

Strong arms lifted her up, and she blindly returned the embrace. Soft lips kissed her forehead, and her nausea subsided. She opened her eyes to a bright contrast from her dark prison and sobbed into the shoulder of Tom Riddle. "Thank you, thank you for rescuing me." 

* * * * * * * 

_Today Ginny was looking at me funny at lunch. I think she loves me._

_Enough of this prattle. Time to get down to business. Remus Lupin has requested a meeting with Harry. I believe that Hermione has expressed concern about my welfare to him. Due to Harry's impulsive reactions toward her about her dream, and failure to stop her escape, the timetable must be moved forward, and the beast must be eliminated. As he stays in the castle during full moons, a minor alteration to his Wolfsbane Potion will be a sufficient response to the threat. This is a final test._

Remus Lupin was less of a challenge to face than the Headmaster himself, but Harry felt uneasy. He'd spent most of the summer with the man and managed to avoid him outside of class for much of the following school year. If this conversation didn't go properly, he'd lose all he gained this year and possibly be found out. Before he entered, he placed Salazar's silver serpent pendant around his neck in plain sight. It reassured him and made him feel aggressive. 

"Hello, Harry. I haven't seen you much lately." Lupin's casual demeanor was belied by the intensity in his amber eyes. He was being screened before facing Dumbledore, and it wasn't time for that yet. 

"Hello, Remus." He had to push down the distaste in his mouth to sound friendly. "I've been very busy bringing my grades up, you know." 

"Yes, your scores in my class are excellent." His hand twitched a little as he handed an exam to Harry. His smile was forced, but subtly so. "That's an interesting pendant you're wearing. I've never seen it before." 

"I found it at Black House last summer. I thought it was neat since I'm a Parselmouth, and all." He quickly slipped it over his head and offered it to Lupin. "I thought I already showed it to you, though. Want to see it?" 

Pained, he shook his head. "That's silver. Thank you, though." 

"Oh, I didn't notice. I had Professor Dumbledore check it over to make sure it wasn't cursed or anything, but I didn't know it was silver." He slipped it back on, suppressing a rising triumph. 

"Speaking of Sirius's house, I wanted to talk to you about how you're feeling. Hermione says you've been... impatient, and I noticed you eat alone frequently." Steeling himself against the sensitizing vibrations of the silver necklace, he reached around and patted Harry on the back. "You can come to me if you need anything." 

Harry pulled away too quickly, plastered a fake smile on his face, and said tightly, "I'll decide how I grieve and when I'm done." _'Control yourself. Do you want to be locked up?!'_ "I mean, I'm fine. I've just been so busy with school. If Hermione and Ron miss me, I'll try to spend more time with them." 

"Please do that. You need to have some fun, and friends are very important. Oh, I forgot to give you your essay as well." He deliberately placed it in front of himself instead of Harry. Harry reached out with his left hand and his sleeve pulled back to the middle of his forearm. "Did you hurt yourself? There's a mark--" 

Harry's false smile stayed, but he gazed a little off center of his professor's head. "Oh, I just burned myself in Potions last week. It's just a little scar. I'm used to scars, you know." 

Remus nodded back. "They can be troublesome, though. Have a nice day, and think about what I said." 

Harry left quickly. _Damn, damn, what does he know?_ He couldn't bring himself to look the werewolf in the eyes to find out himself. He told himself it was due to fear of contamination, not emotional weakness, and headed straight to the dungeons to pay Professor Snape's Wolfsbane cauldron a visit. 


	4. Weakness, Power, and Wisdom

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I wouldn't want children to read this. I am making no profit from this story. Rated R for non-explicit violence, be warned now. What else would you expect from Voldemort? This chapter is very violent. If you find it disturbing, skip ahead to the final scene instead. 

**Chapter Four: Weakness, Power, and Wisdom**

_I did what you asked, but it didn't work out as planned. The effects of the Wolfbane were nullified, and Lupin drank it all week. I sneaked out to see what would happen last night, confident in our ability to handle a werewolf, and wishing to see this in person with all my senses. I expected to hear him tear the door down, to attack everyone in sight with a bloodthirsty rage, charging toward his own execution. Unfortunately, Dumbledore interfered. Apparently, Lupin had realized before his transformation completed that the potion hadn't tamed him. Dumbledore had given him an emergency beacon to contact him, an enchanted book, which he sadly did not tear to shreds. _

Dumbledore came charging down the hall as I removed myself from sight. He used an excellent stunning spell very promptly. I stepped behind him to survey the carnage. The office was already a disaster, a tribute to his beastly nature, but not at all the sight I'd hoped for. Lying unconscious in the middle of it, plainly thrown across the room by the spell, was the werewolf. Dumbledore whirled around, ready to hex me at first. "What are you doing here?" he spat before calming himself. 

I gave him a charming, sincere smile. "I needed to talk to Remus. I didn't realize it was after dark already." 

"Didn't you." 

"I heard you shout. Is everything all right? Can I see him?" 

"It is now." He kept an even voice, plainly requiring much control. I almost admired him, and I almost laughed. "Coming here was very foolhardy, even for you." 

I ignored him. "I'd like to look at him for a moment. I've never seen a werewolf before." 

"I _don't_ think that he would like--" 

I entered the office, kneeling next to the silver beast. I put a hand on its haunch. My snake necklace fell out of my shirt, touched its fur, and silently seared a scar into the animal's side. I fingered a bloody wound, the red liquid satiny and potent. I closed my eyes for a brief second and savored the power exuding from the dark creature, the exhilarating need to kill and the strength to achieve it. I slowed my panting breath and racing blood, pulling away before my reaction became too obvious. I've never felt anything like that before in my life. I needed to visit Ginny right away. 

I rose and thanked Dumbledore. "I didn't think I'd ever get another chance." I met his eyes in challenge, knowing he could sense my experience, and he flinched. "If you don't need help, I'll go." 

I enjoyed seeing the two of them so powerless. What could they do to me? 

You have learned more than I could have hoped for. There will be no punishment for your failure. Lupin has become insignificant at this time. This diary has served its purpose. You have sufficiently cleared your mind of weakness and will no longer waste time writing in it. You will burn it immediately. 

* * * * * * * 

Harry now fully understood lust and power and wanted to experience them very, very soon. The wait until everyone had gone to sleep was unbearable. He could barely think. Every movement entreated him to act now, to satiate his urges. As soon as Ginny responded to the mental summons to go downstairs, he Imperiused her and silenced the common room. He didn't want a dream, he wanted reality, now. But for her... He told her it was her wedding night and she was in a beautiful dress. That would keep her quiet. "Tom!" she called out, blissfully unaware of the violence around her and bruises on her face, the scratches on her back. Whatever was really happening, she was happy. His first true experience of power made his head pound with flashes of light, strengthened him with blinding rage, and allowed him to purge his growing hatred of the world into the small pretty girl. It took all of Harry's resolve not to kill her, now that he'd truly tasted violence, now that all of Voldemort's exhilarating memories of murder were accessible to him, but Voldemort reined him in. _'She's useful. Keep her.'_ Resigned, he healed her obvious injuries, and waited for another opportunity. 

* * * * * * * 

Ron and Hermione were suddenly extra friendly with him the next day. They insisted that he eat with him at every meal. Of course, they were really just observing him, blindly following the commands of their imbecile headmaster, who had no concerns about putting their lives in danger. 

"Come on, Harry. You'll miss dinner. You need to eat." Ron pulled on his sleeve. 

"I wanted to talk to Ginny. Can we get her too?" 

Ron bit his lip. "She's been feeling really sick. She's having a nap, and we really shouldn't wake her up." 

It was a terrible shame to miss Ginny's nap, but eating that day wasn't entirely purposeless. Harry felt eyes upon him from the Slytherin table and heard a bit of a titter. He faced it in challenge and met the pale, smooth face of a lovely girl with sleek black hair who was giving him an appraising look. Delphie Collins, the half-blood seventh-year, he recalled, and also Head Girl whose traitor mother worked as an Auror for the Ministry. She wore a haughty expression when she briefly turned to whisper to her friends. She clearly deserved to be taken down, shown her station. When she gazed at him again, interest sparkled in her coy look. _Ah, even better. She wants to be put in her place by me! Well, I'd hate to disappoint her._

He walked over to her, gave her a little kiss on the cheek, and whispered in her ear, "Is there something you wanted to tell me?" 

She blushed and replied, "Meet me tonight outside the Slytherin common room at midnight. I'll let you in." 

"I'll be there." 

Harry/Voldemort meant to frighten her that night as he pushed her onto the table in the common room. It seemed that it worked as she emitted a grunt and a squeal like a pig. He kissed her roughly, savoring the throbbing power and electrification it brought, and then bit her throat until he tasted blood-- but _'not too fast, not yet...'_

He examined her expression and froze. She wasn't reacting properly; she had a secret. He heard a muffled giggle from behind the heavy green wallhangings on the adjacent wall. He gave Delphie an accusing glare and tightened his grip on her arms until his fingers left marks. 

She smirked, "You're not supposed to be in here, you know, Harry. I know you've fallen from favor, so who do you think they would believe, the lunatic or the Head Girl?" _A true Slytherin after all... Must she call me by that disgusting Muggle name?_ She rubbed her neck. "Even more a lunatic than I thought." 

Voldemort made Harry appear appropriately shocked. _She thought she could attempt to humiliate me. She thought she could beat me at my own game._ "Come, now, let's discuss this reasonably." He let her go to gather his cloak from the floor, removing a bottle of champagne. "I'd hoped we could share this." 

Her stupid little first-year sister, Saffron, came out from behind the curtains. "Can I have some too?" 

_Her idiocy astounds me._ "Certainly. A peace offering, ladies. Now tell me what this is all about." He conjured and filled three crystal glasses. 

"You and your Mudblood friend think you can get higher grades than I? Not if you're expelled." The Head Girl tossed her raven hair disdainfully. 

"Well, since I seem to have seen through your brilliantly implemented plan, that's not likely, Delphinium." He leaned closer to the two girls, who appeared to be a little drunk already. "Did you two know that your lovely floral names are actually both noxious weeds*? Your parents planned that rather well. And quite suitably," he turned to Delphie, "yours is a poisonous one." 

Her eyes widened in comprehension as Saffron slumped to the floor, blinking too quickly. He willed Delphie awake for a moment longer. "No one humiliates Lord Voldemort, least of all a Mudblood whore. Fortunately, I don't have time for this." With a small gesture, he incinerated her and her sister, leaving only a dark stain on the floor. 

Harry was a bit disappointed that he couldn't have derived more entertainment from the girls, but Voldemort knew they were a waste of time. He hated that this young body and its original mind were too passionate to patiently implement his plans, but that wouldn't matter soon enough. He left Harry again for the night to gather his strength. It was nearly time for action. 

* * * * * * * 

Potions began as normal, until Harry felt a mild dizziness, a weak mental struggle, a sort of flash, and then the world around him looked somehow different, yet the same. Colors seemed more saturated, angles seemed sharper, and his improved eyes came to rest again upon Severus Snape's face. 

He suddenly found himself visualizing a tall sallow man in a black silk cloak pointing a wand at a woman crouched in a corner, arms shielding her head. The hysterical sobbing of a young boy rang in his ears. The room came back into focus, and Harry was staring into Professor Snape's eyes so intently that he couldn't move his head. Voldemort whispered, "Sniveling child... traitor." 

Snape stepped forward, breaking the mental connection. He looked both terrified and furious for a moment before regaining his professional composure toward the class, which had no idea why their teacher had frozen a moment before. His expression had changed to a contemptuous sneer, despite his shaking hands. "See me after class, Potter," he spat. 

Voldemort spent the rest of class looking around the room in mild interest at his surroundings. He hadn't been physically present in class before even though his knowledge had stayed with Harry. But today was a special occasion. When the class had dispersed, his cold gaze again locked upon the professor's face. 

"I don't know what you think--" Snape seethed, advancing upon the student, focusing all his self-control on not beating the child or drawing his wand. 

Harry/Voldemort seemed absolutely unthreatened as he leaned close to him and whispered, "You have no right to speak to me that way. You may not be able to recognize me, Snape, but I am still your Lord and Master. I know your secrets. You will pay for your treason." 

Snape sputtered a little before recognition showed. 

"Very good. Crucio!" 

Harry's body casually gathered his belongings as the professor lay writhing on the floor in agony, stepped over his body and exited. A feminine scream joined the masculine one, echoing down the hallway after someone entered the classroom. 

* * * * * * * 

"Harry! HARRY!" shrieked Ginny, bowling down the hall and knocking him down. She pointed her thin, little wand at his neck. "Oh, my God! Your eyes! I knew it was you! Somebody help! It's Tom, I mean Vol--" 

In a swift movement with an electrical charge of adrenaline, he stood and snapped her wand with a flex of his hand, before seizing her throat. "You will listen to me. I know you think you're clever, but did you really believe that I'd let you know who I am by accident?" 

A garbled sound like "Dumbledore" escaped her. 

"Imperio! Yes, foolish girl, take me to him. I've waited long enough." 

* * * * * * * 

Albus Dumbledore was conferring with Remus Lupin when Voldemort threw open the door with the griffin knocker. Dumbledore paled at Harry's blazing red eyes. "Hello, Tom. Nice of you to finally visit me." 

Voldemort's laugh echoed eerily in the small tower office. "How long ago did you come to that conclusion?" Dumbledore glanced at Ginny in concern and registered her blank expression. "Ah, I see. You initially required Miss Weasley's help. I suspected she'd come crying to you about her nightmares eventually. Well, you aren't half the fool I believed you to be." 

"You left your own clues. Let her go, Tom. You don't want her." 

"Yes, you're correct. She served her purpose." He gathered his fury at the naive, stupid, weak girl and turned his wand on her. "Avada Kedavra." In a powerful blast of emerald light and roaring wind, she fell to the floor with blank open eyes like a discarded porcelain doll. 

Albus clearly hadn't expected such a quick response. He'd barely risen from his seat. 

Voldemort turned a charming smile on him. "Harry's rather impulsive, isn't he? It was hard to make him use caution once he'd tasted power. He's a reckless Gryffindor, rather like his father." He casually twirled Harry's wand in his fingers. 

"What do you want by using Harry like this?" The headmaster's voice sounded hoarse. 

"Oh, I'll kill him eventually. For now, he's been most amusing and helpful. After all, I am standing in your office. He wants you to die, you know, after your large omission last year. And _I've_ had quite enough of you." 

Dumbledore shot up and exchanged a knowing glance with the silent Lupin, who had been actually experiencing his previously feigned shock once Ginny died. Lupin flicked his wand, and into the room floated five Dementors. 

Voldemort faltered at the sight, surprised, but laughed, "I'm their master! Am I supposed to be frightened?" 

Dumbledore murmured, "The Dementors never truly follow a master... and you should be frightened." 

"Harry is," agreed Lupin, "or didn't you know that?" 

The Dementors turned on Voldemort/Harry, who felt an uncharacteristic chill. His vision was blackening, and he began to shake. "I know you won't harm the boy." 

The silence in the room was not reassuring. 

_Pain shot through Tom Riddle's back as the switch connected with badly healed scars. A beautiful young mother lay dead in a hospital bed, tears on her cheeks and a tiny baby on her chest. A dark-haired girl was thrown onto a rocky shore, purple bruises on her tilted neck, the price of betrayal. A boy lay beside her near a shiny trophy, startled mouth frozen open._

"Expecto--" Harry's body gasped, pale and sickly, with livid undereye rings, sliding to the ground slowly. He could barely think. Prostrated, he grabbed his hair, as if trying to pull himself up with it. Many strands ripped loose in his hands. He blindly groped for Dumbledore or Lupin, wanting to either inflict pain or beg for help. 

The older wizard's voice answered. "Harry's afraid of Dementors, you know. He was almost Kissed his third year. But the Patronus Charm drove them away. I don't imagine you'd be very successful with it, do you?" 

Lupin growled, "No happy thoughts? Maybe you'd better leave Harry alone." 

_'Kill them...' I'm not going to give up..._ He began to force himself to his knees. 

_Harry's elbow bled as a short balding man raised a dagger high, chopping off his own hand. Then, a woman was screaming, and a man was laughing. 'Don't hurt Harry!' With a blaze of light, Voldemort remembered being thrown from his body, ripped nearly into non-existence, a pitiful and infuriating weakness, forced to possess animals to stay alive. Then he saw the revolting child-sized demon that he'd become, relying on that imbecile Wormtail to feed him..._

He put Harry's wand to his heart. "Do you... think I won't do it?" The Dementors drew closer, opening their mouths. 

_Tom crashed down the stairs, broken ribs bleeding through his shirt. The beds was on fire in Slytherin dorm... he was just angry; he hadn't meant to! Hermione lay Petrified in the hospital wing. Dumbledore was creeping into his mind, prying for information about the Chamber of Secrets. A dog chased Harry up a tree. An alley dog was dying, such a loyal friend, worth more than most people were worth, as Tom beat the boys who attacked it in revenge. An alley dog... a black dog..._

_Sirius laughed and fell through the Veil. Harry screamed and chased Bellatrix, heart pounding, shaking and ready to kill her with his bare hands. No, not Bellatrix. Voldemort. Voldemort tricked him. Sirius! Sirius loved him; Sirius had wanted to take him away from the Dursleys. Sirius had risked being captured for him, over and over again. No, Harry didn't want to die! 'Oh, my God, what happened to Ginny!' The Weasleys loved him, Remus loved him, I hate, no-- Dumbledore loved him. ('How have I treated them?!')_ The Dementors' breath rattled; Lupin shouted something. _'NO! GET OUT, TOM! I DON'T NEED YOU! _

'They love me. I have to help them. Voldemort's here...' 

"Expecto Patronum!!!" 

The Dementors were gone, Voldemort had fled at the onslaught of memories and positive emotion. Harry lay drenched in a pool of fluids, exhausted and weak but free. Remus knelt to pick him up, and Dumbledore murmured, "Perhaps now you'll listen to my advice about anger." 

Harry shot him an exasperated look. "You always have to have the last word." 

Alarmed, the headmaster frowned. 

"I'm not Tom, but that doesn't mean I don't agree with him. You push people away." His face went slack. He still wasn't really sure where Voldemort began and he ended. It would take time. "But you were right. None of this would have happened if I'd listened to you. You told me that depression and anger would make me susceptible to Voldemort. It just happened so slowly..." Harry twisted his head toward Ginny, as Lupin's arms turned him away. She looked so calm and innocent, like nothing was really wrong... except that he'd violated and murdered her. Nothing would ever be the same again. "Now I have to live with the consequences." 

Dumbledore was silent for a long time, then spoke softly, "There is darkness within all of us, primal urges yearning to be released. We all have our demons, and they will never go away. We mustn't ignore the lessons they teach us." 

"It could have been any one of us." Remus murmured. "I'm so sorry this happened to you." Harry remembered touching him on the full moon, the dangerous power that the werewolf exuded, but looking into the pained amber eyes, he saw only control. 

The End. 

------------------------------- 

Author's Notes: The separation between Harry and Voldemort is supposed to be difficult to determine. During the times that were not written about, Harry is mostly normal, but depressed and withdrawn, and still a bit under the residual influence of Voldemort's intellect. The rest of the time, he's either directly controlled, or Voldemort's memories influence his behavior without direct commands, as their personalities merged. 

Very special thanks to all who reviewed, including: Elwing Alcyone, evil harry= goodness, HoshiHikari4ever, PartyGirl2, DarkWolfyOne, and RaistlinofMetallica! Thanks for your encouragement! 

*Delphinium, also known as dwarf larkspur. Saffron thistle. 


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